Dragonslayer
by CyberneticIdol
Summary: AU, HPDM SLASH-licious! "Dragons have been exting for damn nigh 200 years!" Harry is a dragonslayer, and he will do whatever it takes to rid the world of every last one in hopes of redeeming himself and coming to terms with his terrible past. R&R!
1. Chapter One: The Predator

Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine, I just mess around with 'em.  
  
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Chapter 1: The Predator  
  
Dawn rose over the sleepy little hamelet, nestled between two mountains that rose protectively into a cloud-strewn sky. The rooftops of the humble cottages and the meadow beyond seemed so serene in the rosy light, all inhabitants peacefully slumbering.  
  
All, that is, but for one, a stranger from a land so distant these poor village folk did not recognize its name, let alone its language. But money speaks volumes, and this foreigner had more of it than most of the villagers would ever have in their whole lifetimes. So, he had been able to gain a room in the tiny local inn (and the good favour of the people) with relative ease. That morning, the innkeeper awoke to find the strange man, in his outlandish clothing, already in the common room, honing a wicked-looking blad. The innkeeper was a simple, relatively sheltered man who had lived his whole life in this valley and the weapon unsettled him. Just what do you need that for? asked he, pointing a trembling finger at the outlander man.  
  
Without looking up, the stranger answered, Hunting dragons.  
  
The man's name was Harry, and he was not a man at all, rather he was a boy of a mere sixteen years. But he was tall, a bit narrow in the shoulders but no one seemed to notice, and his life had given him the look of a hardened soldier quite early on. For Harry was a dragonslayer.  
  
"Dragons?" said the innkeeper, a man by the name of Yanil. He was taken aback by both the statement and the fact that this, this stranger had spoken in understandable, if slow and strangely accented, Voldarian, when he had shown no understanding of the tongue before this moment. "You're wasting your time, friend. 'Tain't no more dragons left in these mountains. Why, dragons have been extinct for damn nigh two hundred years now!" Harry gave Yanil a politely bland smile and continued to sharpen his poniard. Yanil shook his head and walked to the counter to dry dishes, but he kept on eye on Harry.  
  
Inwardly, Harry sighed. With his shock of dark hair that he simply could not contain, his relatively muscular build, and his tanned and heavily scarred skin, Harry supposed he did look strange to the fair-haired, light-eyed, willowy folk of this eastern continent, even without the dragon-slaying business. Inevitably, though, it was always the colour of his eyes, not his hair or sking or what he said, that did him in. Their vivid green, like that of growing things, of spring, had cast him the pariah's lot on more than one occassion. They marked him as a Gryphon.  
  
'Dragons,' Harry mused. 'This man says they are extinct... just as he did. But they aren't extinct! No, not extinct... just... well-hidden.' King of his realm, Albus of the house of Dumbledore. In the end, Albus had been unable to keep his favourite Gryphon mewed and tethered like a falconer's bird. The old man had begged Harry not to leave, to abandon this mad quest of his. Harry simply could not do it. He had been killing dragons for so long, he knew no other way to live. Dragon hunting was his past, his present, his future. So, when there were no dragons left in his homeland, he left.  
  
For two years, Harry traveled, alone and preferring it that way. He stopped in tiny hamlets such as this, but rarely for long, and never long enough to make friends.  
  
"'Tis a fool's errand," Yanil said again after an hour or so of thoughtful silence.  
  
Harry continued to sharpen his sword.  
  
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A/N: Yes, I am aware of completely and totally AU this fic is! . And of how short the first chapter is. ==' But ne'er you fear! The second one is slightly longer, and the third is WAY longer. .; Big things are going to happen in this fic! Please, read and review! Even flames are appreciated, though they will be picked apart for the entertainment of the masses. 


	2. Chapter Two: The Prey

Disclaimer: I own nothing! Nada! Zip! Zilch!  
  
Chapter Two: The Prey  
  
Dawn came rosy-cheeked to the citadel, high upon its mountain peak that overlooked a sleepy valley village as it had for centuries. The two spires jutted up to stab the steadily lightening sky, imposing in their black-stone grandeur. It wasn't large, as castles go, but it was big enough for there to be corridors and rooms unused since the time of their construction. Most of the rooms were empty now, filthy with years of neglect. Once, it had been a lively, bustling place, full of courtiers from all around; lavish parties had been hosted in its ballroom; once, it had been alive. Now the castle was uninhabited.  
  
Except... Except for one lone figure, always wrapped in cloth as dark and forbidding as the surrounding fortress. He was the last lord the manor had, and ever would.  
  
His name was Draco, of the proud line of the Malfoy family, and he was the last. His mother and father had finally died. The few servants that remained at that point in time told Draco of accident, yet whispered "suicide". The new young lord had not been surprised. He knew that an ending of the mundane sort was simply not possible for his parents, what with their Malfoy flair for drama. That incident had been two years ago; Draco had long since sent away all his servants and staff. They were not sorry to leave. While they had loved the old Lord and Lady as much as anyone could love people so prone to fits of violent rage and cold remarks, this new Lord was far too odd for them. Holed away in that enormous library all day and night, and if you so much as looked at him funny, he'd bite your head off. No, they were not sorry at all. The only one who stayed by Draco's side had been his tutor, Severus, but he had died the winter after Draco's parents.  
  
And so it was that Draco was very much alone.  
  
That morning found Draco still in bed, though he no longer slept. Fair hair lay tangled on the silken pillows, long-fingered hands on his bare chest. The lord of the manor let his plae eyes wander from the black brocade canopy, to the thick down comfortors he had piled upon him, to the ebony windowpane and the deep forest beyond.  
  
Slowly he rose, first sitting up and then taking the stairs down to a chilly marble floor. Draco shivered when his feet made contact, and continued to do so when his body left the warmth the comfortors provided. A mirror stood opposite the bes, cool glass gilt-edged in silver filligree. Draco took one long look at this spare frame and turned away, disgusted. Three long strides took him to his wardrobe, from which he removed a pair of black leather pants and an oversized white tunic. Before stepping outside to the balcony, he slipped on a cloack that hung on his shoulders like broken wings; another guard against the chill. No matter how many layers he wore, Draco felt as if he could never be warm.  
  
A hand came to rest on the citadel's dark stone. It numbed his fingers, chilled him to the core of his being. The blonde quickly took his hand away. The stone sucked the warmth from things, turned them to ice as black as it was. Just barely, on the edge of conciousness, Draco knew that was happening to his own self, as it had to his mother and father so long ago.  
  
Shivering, the boy drew his cloak in tighter about himself. Blue eyes, thickly rimmed in black, swept over the treetops to the valley below.  
  
"He's coming."  
  
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A/N: Ta-da! Chapter two! How was it? I know, I know, still no plot! But I set up the first two chapters to introduce my special, AU versions of Draco and Harry. Forgive meeee! .; Anyway, I'll post the third, plot-licious chapter as soon as I'm finished writing it. (It's very long... ugh.) To those of you that reveiwed, thank you! . I appreciate it alot. More substance is coming! 


	3. Chapter Three: The Owl

Disclaimer: The only thing that belongs to me is this plot. All of the characters belong to one J.K. Rowling, who sadly is not me.  
  
Chapter Three: The Owl  
  
Harry buckled his sheath to the thick leather belt around his hips and jabbed the poniard into it, giving an experimental wiggle to make sure it was secure. That done, he was fully equipped and almost ready to leave this village for good.  
  
"Excuse me," Harry said, tapping on the bar. Yanil's head appeared followed by his chest and shoulders. "But... Can you tell me how to get to the Black Citadel?" Yanil let out a long whistle and eyed Harry as if sizing him up.  
  
"What do you... Ah, nevermind. Best if I not know. An empty mind is a happy one, they say around here. But you must know, no one remembers how to get there anymore. There's alot of bad feeling 'bout the place. Horrible stories..." Yanil shook his head. Harry only nodded; he had expected as much. He was on his own, then.  
  
"Thank you," he said, tossing Yanil a coin before leaving the inn. The innkeepers scratched his head in bewilderment, but wasted no time in pocketing the coin. "Outlanders. I'll never understand 'em." A dismissive shrug, and he was back to wiping down the bar.

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Three days later, and Harry was sleeping with his back against a tree's trunk and his han on the hilt of his sword. Some fifteen feet behind him, a doe snapped a twig making her way through the forest. Harry's eyes flew open and he was on his feet in seconds, blade in hand. When the doe picked her way across the clearing, Harry let himself relax. He had been on edge ever since he left the valley hamlet behind to hunt in earnest. His prize was close, he could feel it in his bones, but it seemed the more he traveled, the further his destination became. The forest was playing tricks on him, shifting trees and stones... Whoever lived in that castle was powerful. Victory would only be that much sweeter for the challenge.  
  
But still... Harry shivered and drew his cloak closer about him. He would never get used to this northern chill. Reaching out for a stick, the hunter stirred the coals in his dying fire before adding a bit more wood. Harry looked up and sighed almost contentedly. They sky, or what he could see of it through the canopy above him, was thick with brilliantly burning stars. They looked so much bigger, brighter... closer up here. 'The air must be getting thinner...' a slightly cynical and paranoid part of him said. Harry ignored it. To his left came the hooting of an owl, strange and wonderful in the oddly silent night. 'I wouldn't hang around either, if I were an animal,' Harry mused. Glancing about he saw that the owl had taken up a perch in a nearby tree. Harry smiled. He always had been fond of owls.  
  
"Hello, White Lady," Harry said softly. The owl's head spun to stare at him with large yellow eyes. "My, what lovely..." All at once, Harry felt pinned down by eyes... Yellow owl's eyes... But no, they were set in the face of a girl, a mere slip of a thing with white hair... Or were they feathers?  
  
Harry was taken aback as what had so recently been and ownl became a young girl of twelve or thirteen, dressed entirely in white with long feathery white hair. She was beautiful, more so than any creature he had seen even in dreams, but there was something off about her face... It was a long time until Harry realized what it was: her eyes had no whites; they were all golden iris and huge black pupil.  
  
_"Harry Dragonslayer."_ The voice in his mind was a beautiful mezzo soprano, with a delicate mixture of cruelty and compassion, innocence and wisdom so close to perfection that his heart ached and he nearly wept and the sound of it. _"I have been watching you, Harry, from the time you were very small, a mere babe in your mother's arms. Do you know who I am?"_ Through his blurred eyes, Harry could see that this, this divine creature was radiating a soft white light. He shook his head. _"I am the Great Goddess Hedwig, and your patron protector. Harry,"_ her heavenly fingers touched his face gently, _"you are seeking vengence, are you not?"_ There was no need for him to reply. Hedwig's touch burned like white-hot metal, but Harry could not bear to pull away. _"Your quest, young one, will change the whole world,"_ Hedwig was saying, every word exquisite agony.  
  
"The--the world? I don't understand..." Harry managed. Hedwig smiled.  
  
_"Of course not,"_ she said, _"But you will, in time. For now... take this."_ Hedwig handed him a long, thin object that Harry could not see. _"When the time comes, you will understand its purpose."_ Harry nodded dumbly. Hedwig's smile turned sad, almost regretful, with her next words. _"Your parents were good people, Harry. I am sorry for your loss. But your quest has only just begun."_  
  
The clearing filled with a white light so dazzling and beautiful, Harry's poor mortal eyes couldn't take it. He was forced to shut them and throw his arm over them to stop himself from going blind. When he cautiously opened them again, Hedwig was gone. Almost. On a nearby tree stump was a white owl. Harry saw a small bit of parchment tied 'round its leg. Curious, Harry approached the owl. When it did not move, he tenatively reached out and carefully removed the parchment.  
  
_'My dear Harry_,' it read:  
  
_'This Lady is my most trusted attendant. She will stay with you, and guide and protect you as I would. She too, is called "Hedwig". Treat her well.'_  
  
Harry smiled and tossed the note on the fire, where it exploded into a shower of violet stars. "Well, fair lady," Harry said to the bird, who reguarded him thoughtfull. "It would seem your mistress has decreed us partners. I welcome your companionship." Settling back, he reguarded the gift that Hedwig had given him, a feather of white gold, pensively, until he fell asleep, owl-Hedwig nestled near him.  
  
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A/N: Chapter three! Look at that, a plot emerges! Yes, I made Hedwig a goddess. I was thinking of how to work her in. Originally, she was going to be merely Harry's hunting bird, but it was about midnight and I was trying to think of what to write when I just got this mental picture of Hedwig as a goddess in the form of a bird-child. I think it turned out rather well. Don't you? Please R&R! Let's aim for ten reviews, okay? You know I love you all! Until chapter four! 


	4. Chapter Four: The Ward

DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything, I just enjoy playing with other people's toys.  
  
Chapter 4: The Ward  
  
Harry awoke to Hedwig nibbling on his ear with her sharp beak. With a groan he sat up and knocked her away. Hedwig squawked indignantly but desisted. Harry looked around, then smiled a shallow, crooked smile at Hedwig. "Today starts our hunt." Hedwig only tilted her head to the side and gave him an understanding look. "Something, or maybe even someone, has put a ward on this forest." Harry's eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched without him realizing it. "That damn dragon... It's being hidden, and hidden well." The boy stood and held out his arm for Hedwig. He stroked her breastfeathers absently for a moment. "It's time to break the ward."  
  
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Draco nibbled on the edge of a piece of bread while he poured over a dusty tome bound in green leather. The yellowing hide pages were covered in a cramped, nearly illegible script from a language that had been dead for hundreds of years. He was halfway through the volume when he felt a tug. Not a physical tug, but one on the mana net he had established. Cursing, Draco went to the farthest library wall and rapped on it five times in quick succession. The walls opened up to reveal a flight of black marble steps, which Draco used to descend into the depths of the palace.  
  
At the base of the steps was a door cast in silver. Beasts battled for supremacy in the metal, but in the flickering light provided by two fish-oil lamps, only the vagues of blurred shapes could be discerned. Draco waved an arm impatiently with muttering a phrase under his breath and the door swung slowly inward. The majority of the room was taken up by a large, shallow pool of black water. The walls were lined with shelves crammed with every conceivable herb, oil and essence in carefully labelled cobalt glass jars. Thick, hide-bound spellbooks were scattered helter-skelter throughout the room.  
  
Draco crossed to the pool in three strides. One hand dipped into the pool's depths, then was brought out again dripping wet. He flicked his fingers and droplets scattered Draco's reflection. When the surface had settled once again, it was not his own chillingly handsome face that stared back at him, but that of a young man appearing to be about Draco's age with unkempt dark hair and an intense expression on his face. The image in the pool panned back, reavealing the young man's strong-looking frame engaged in some strenuous activity. He was dragging a sword through the earth, his mouth moving in words Draco could not hear. The young Lord cursed colourfully. "Fool! He's trying to break the ward! It's been in place for centuries! Who does he..." Draco stopped speaking. Something in the boy's actions had caught his grey eyes. "NO!"  
  
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Harry finished carving the Seal into the dirt, his sides heaving. More than just physical effort went into making a Seal; magical energy that tied in directly to the user's lifeforce also was required. The slayer leaned heavily on the hilt of his sword. When he had a bit of his strength back, he stood and prepared for the final step. He raised the blade above his head...  
  
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Draco had no time to think, only to act. The ward was going to be broken, he could feel it. The backlash of magical energy would kill him and everything else around for miles. The land might never recover, and even if it did it would be tainted with magic for aeons. So he did the only thing he could. With all of his magical strength he reached, and pulled...  
  
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Harry drove the sword into the centre of the Seal. At first, there was nothing. Then without warning there was a great roaring sound in his ears. The earth beneath his feet heaved, and small stones whipped around him in a magic-created storm, hitting his face and arms. There was a horrible sound, like the world breaking in two, and then...  
  
Then, there was nothing.  
  
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A/N: Here I am, with chapter four! I'm sorry to leave it that way, but I really wanted to get this up as fast as possible. I'm having so much fun writing this! I can only hope you're having as much fun reading it... I think the fifth chapter may be longer and actually advance the plot a bit. (This is going to be a LONG story, folks. Heh. --.--;;) Please R&R! The more you review, the faster I put up longer, better chapters! (It's true!) 


	5. Chapter Five: Tell Me

Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own these character, really, because why would I post them HERE? I'd be rich. And J. K. Rowling, Goddess.  
  
Chapter Five: Tell Me  
  
There was a numbness surrounding Harry from all sides. He saw nothing, heard nothing, felt nothing but a blank fuzziness. His thoughts seemed sluggish, like they were too solid to fly as they should. 'Where... Am I dead?' He knew it was probable. The Seal was tied up in his own life, and to dissipate the ward's energies he had needed to overload it with his own. There was danger in attempting such a feat; the caster of the Seal could easily use up too much of their life-energies and die. As Harry supposed he must have done. But, if this was death... Where were they? Harry wanted to scream, to call out their names, but his voice stuck in his through and it was like cotton in his mouth and oh, it was lonely, :where were they?!;...  
  
"Hey!" Harry slowly opened his eyes. Everything around him was blurred and out of focus, but he could almost make out the shape of a man's, no, a boy's head and torso. "I said, HEY!" The figure snapped into abrupt focus, though everything else remained unclear.  
  
"My glasses..." Harry managed in a hoarse croak. His voice sounded rusty and unused, and his throat was parched. The stranger reached over Harry's chest and handed them to him. Harry nodded his thanks. He put them on, and with their return was a clarity he did not know he desired so until he had it. The stranger, who looked close to Harry's own age, remained poised just above Harry's chest. Close enough now and wearing his glasses, Harry could pick out all the fine details of the other person's face. There, between his brows, was a shallow crease, as if they often drew together in thought or perhaps worry. Here, a wisp of fair hair had fallen across the bridge of a proud nose. The eyelashes that framed eyes of an amazing liquid grey were long and so pale that they seemed to disappear into skin that looked as if it would have the texture of matte paper, soft and incredibly smooth...  
  
With a small start, Harry realized he had been staring. But this boy, this... Now that Harry wasn't thinking of his face, there was something about him that Harry could not place, a strange sense of peculiarity that made the fine hairs on his arms and the nape of his neck stand on end. There was a long silence, both of them absorbed in scrutinizing the other with an intensity neither were aware of. It was Harry who looked away first, in the end. "...What happened? How did I end up..." He made a vague gesture with his left hand. "Tell me."  
  
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"Tell me." Draco stared into eyes an intensely vulnerable green. He had always known that one day, the time would come when he would show up on Draco's doorstep, and he thought he had been prepared for it. But he hadn't thought that he would be so... Such a perfect bundle of flesh and blood and bones that Draco just wanted to... To what? What was he thinking? This boy that lay on his bed was not the delicate and delicious morsel he appeared to be, Draco knew that very well. On the outside he may be the most darling thing in all creation, but he was filled with needles and knives, waiting to prick and draw blood... 'What in the name of the Great Gods am I thinking? Great Gods, he's staring at me... What do I say, what do I do?' "You attempted to overload the ward. Stupid," he added after a second, his lips curling up in a sneer. An enraged fire spread along the boy's cheekbones. He opened his mouth as if to tell Draco off, but Draco didn't give him the opening. "You would have toasted this entire forest, didn't you know that?" The mouth closed, and Draco could tell he was grinding his teeth. "You're a fool. But you aren't dead. What's your name?"  
  
"Harry," he said sullenly. Draco made a mental note that Harry had not given any familial or clan associations. "Who are you?" Ah, he was rude, this one! Draco found that mildly amusing but hid his smile well.  
  
"Dr--" He paused. He would have to handle this guest with particular care. The wrong words would mean disastor. "...Just call me Malfoy."  
  
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A/N: What a lousy place to stop, eh? But I wanted to post this chapter as soon as possible, and it was taking me far too long to write this one. == See, I write them on paper then type them up fairly quickly. But I've been lazy lately, soo... Thank you to all my reviewers!   
  
Jill 4: Thank you! Kind words are always lovely.  
  
Sak: It's kind of a sixth sense. You'll see why in later chapters.  
  
Sapphire-Wolf1: Heh. No, they don't... Oh, you'll just have to see. I'm doing something special with that aspect of them.   
  
Shadow Cat17: Why, thank you! I update as quickly as I can, but I'm not always able to type it up.  
  
Lydd: My first reviewer! My first review is always my favourite.   
  
And to Mon2, who has reveiwed my story the most often: Thank you so very, very much! It's nice to know that someone reads my story with regularity. You'll get answers to all your questions, but I don't want to spoil it for you. Just wait and see!  
  
I love you all dearly! To those of you that read, but didn't review... REVIEW! It's the reviews that tell me I'm not just writing this for myself. (In which case I would just write it and not type it up. Heh.) Review review review! If I get twenty, I'll attempt TWO chapters in one day! Haha! 


	6. Chapter Six: About You

Disclaimer: I like candy and boys snogging.  
  
Chapter Six: About You  
  
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Another hour passed with each boy cautiously trading the facts that were their lives with the other. Both, when retreating to their seperate corners, came off feeling as if a great many things had been left unsaid. Draco, for his part, left that room knowing only that this other was called Harry, that he was searching for something (he would not say what), that he came from the Western Continent across the Great Sea, and one thing that Draco had understood through Harry's staunch refusal to even skirt the subject: in this world, he, like Draco, was alone.  
  
Harry knew that Malfoy would no permit his given name to be known (most likely out of caution, for names had power; Harry had told Malfoy his only for lack of any other), that Malfoy had a strength of Will (the source of power) that Harry had seen long ago in a place he could not recall but never since, that he was a scholar, and that he was the Lord and sole occupant of this vast manor.  
  
They were strangers.  
  
Draco retreated to his library. This boy, the Harry, was unsettling. His power was great, but unrefined and raw as a fork of lightning, and just as dangerously unpredictable. But that wasn't all. His power was being created by some colossal driving force that raged inside his narrow-shouldered chest. (Oh, too narrow, too narrow by far.) Still that was not it. Draco was determined to find out, and he was certain his decaying volumes could give him this piece of the complex human puzzle that now dozed fitfully on a borrowed bed. Draco selected a volume bound in gold-gilt black leather and began to read.  
  
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When Malfoy left, Harry allowed himself to sing back into the bed with a groan of pain. He had kept up a semblance of alert, pain-free poise while he spoke with Malfoy, finding himself unwilling to expose his own weaknesses; now he could maintain it no longer. Harry's eyes closed, and his mind was free to wander. Why was he here, in this lavish place? As Malfoy had been speaking Harry had discreetly surveyed his surroundings. The predominant features of the decor were emeraled-hued silks and ebony furniture, all against walls of a curious darkness that Harry found himself loathe to touch. Dark decor, indeed. Harry hated it. His own rooms, when he had them, had been gold and crimson, the colours of consuming flames. This place seemed chilled and remote where Harry's had been hot and passionate.   
  
'Much like the young Lord himself,' Harry thought with a grimace. He had never beheld eyes like that, chips of ice where there could been seen withing their circular pools a latticework so complex and beautiful it drew one in and held one there, suspended. Devoid of warmth, of pity, posessing only a clinical fascination that a scholar might have for an interesting specimen. Malfoy was perfectly and exquisitely lovely... too perfect. Harry found himself searching for flaws, and when he failed, Harry hated Malfoy.  
  
Some small noise caught Harry's attention. A clicking sound, like the beak of a bird. Harry's eyes flew open. In his daze, Harry had nearly forgotten Owl-Hedwig. She came now from the high rafters to land near his knees. "Oh, Hedwig," Harry said, holding out his hand. For a moment it looked as if she would scorn him, take off and leave him to himself. But then, she nibbled gently on his fingertips and Harry knew he had been forgiven. Smiling with only his lips, Harry fell asleep.  
  
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A strange half-smile played across Draco's mouth. He had found it. The missing piece to Harry's puzzle. He had found Harry's secret.  
  
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A/N: I'm sorry this took me so long, but every time I started to write this chapter, it came out wrong. All's well that ends well, though, eh? Anyway. Chapter seven is going to be the longest chapter yet, and I'm almost done with it... But come on, people! Review! If you don't start reviewing, I may just... just... oh, just review! Also, if you don't know what I'm talking about with Draco's eyes... Staring into people's irises is a hobby of mine (heh), and you know the freckles in people's eyes and stuff... If you have a few light-eyed friends, grab them and stare into their irises. Actually, do it with your dark-eyed friends, too. You'll be rewarded, as it's really very cool-looking.  
  
To my reviewers:  
  
I love you! And Mon2, erm, if you wish! Do whatever you want. 0.o 


	7. Chapter Seven: Dumb

_DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, nothing, nothing.__A/N: Wow, hey! Long time no see! But, of course, I had lost my thread with this story, and then posted that entirely stupid Author's Note, which I took down. (As you can see.) Anyway. Here's the real chapter seven. I lost what I had originally written for it, so… I'm makin' it up, now. Yay! Fun times._ Chapter Seven: Draco swept into the room, his cloak flaring out around him and settling with soft whispers when he stopped. Harry was asleep, again. He had tried so hard to hide his pain all throughout their exchange of hours before, but Draco had seen. He always could. Harry's breathing was deep and even, a peaceful, lulling sound that drew Draco in. Under any other circumstances, he would have awoken his guest without a second thought, but it seemed… Harry probably would never sleep this deeply again for a long time, if ever. A soldier's life was hard. For a moment, Draco was glad he had chosen the route of a scholar instead. "What a strange person you are, Harry," the other mused aloud. Up close like this, he really was beautiful. Time outdoors had burned his skin a shade of brown that Draco had never seen before on anyone, living as he did in this land of fair wintery people. Even his scars were exquisite. The young noble had never seen scars before, not like these. These were scars earned through sweat and tears and blood, worn as badges of honor, as proof that he had lived and lived well. Harry's hands, gently curled on the blankets, were rough and heavily calloused. Draco put his own hands next to them, and found them soft and weak-looking by comparison. Harry's hands looked… capable, strong. They could do anything, those hands. That dark hair was the most beautiful thing about him, though, that hair and his eyes, such amazing eyes… Draco turned abruptly. What was he thinking, pouring over a stranger's face like this? No wonder his father had said… the things that he said. This stranger, this boy-man, was an unknown. And an unknown was an enemy, no matter how… alluring… that unknown may be. "A strange… strange person." For a moment more, Draco let his gaze linger. Then he was gone. Harry's eyelids lifted slowly. How deeply had he slumbered that he could not immediately recall where he was? The sensation of nibbling on his fingertips reminded him. He was in the Black Castle, with a stranger who would not tell him his name. A beautiful stranger, he found himself thinking. Hedwig made a soft owl-noise and fluttered to a nearby ledge, choosing to stare out the window rather than at her musing charge. Harry pulled himself up slowly, trying to let both mind and body adjust. Had he just thought that that Malfoy, or whoever he was, was beautiful? The thought perturbed him greatly. Not so much because Malfoy was a man as because he was so potentially dangerous. Harry had known a great many beautiful people, both malignant and benign, and none had at once raised and lowered his defenses as this single person did. It was entirely inexplicable. Harry hated it. "Hedwig," Harry called softly to the bird, which swiveled her head around to look at him. "Do you know why we are here?" Hedwig hooted, but for Harry she had no words. This, too, had been bothering Harry for quite a while. "Why do you not speak?" Could it be that this far-flung continent's creatures were dumb? It was an unsettling thought. He was so used to having to beg the animals around him to still their fool tongues that to have not heard a single animal voice was disturbing. "Talking to your bird, boy?" Harry's head whipped around, making him wince. In the doorway stood Malfoy, wearing a superior smirk on his beautiful lips. "I daresay she shan't answer you." Harry's dark brows knit together. "…Why not?" Malfoy regarded him in mild surprise. "Animals do not speak, Harry." Malfoy chuckled. "Was your mind damaged as well as your body?" Harry shook his head. Malfoy's words made him angry, but the truth that drove them was too important to get sidetracked. "What do you mean? Back in—" Harry stopped himself, rephrased his sentence, "—Where I come from, it's getting them to shut their mouths that's the problem." Harry's green eyes lifted and caught Malfoy's grey ones. "Do the creatures here… not speak?" Harry watched as Malfoy's face transformed from one of ugly superiority to one of profound sadness. In four long, fluid strides Malfoy was at the window on the far side of the room, where Hedwig had been just moments before. For a long time he stared out that window, though at what Harry could not tell. "…You must come from somewhere… very far away from here. The animals of this continent have not spoken for hundreds of years." Harry frowned. "Surely some of them must…! The unicorns, what of the unicorns? Do they not speak?" "…" Malfoy seemed hesitant. "…The last of them… died… quite some time ago. There are no unicorns here." Harry sat bolt upright. What did he mean, no unicorns? The unicorns were what perpetuated the life of the land! The forest he had come through had been no dead and barren wasteland, it had life…! The unicorns were guardians of that life! "Then what stops your people from ruthlessly tearing down the forests?" Malfoy laughed his short, dry laugh. "Fear, mostly. Though none have ever seen one, the people of this continent still live in fear of the unicorns' wrath should they so much as touch one single tree. This will not last long. I suspect that in other parts, the fear has already been replaced by a driving need for more wood, more space, more… everything." The look on Harry's face was too much to bear; Malfoy looked away. "Mankind…" Harry spoke into the deep silence that grew up between the two of them. "What a terrible… and wasteful species." Malfoy said nothing; it was all that needed to be said. "Such contempt you have…" Should he show his hand now, so early on in the game? Malfoy hesitated, unsure. He was unused to these games of secrets that his parents had so deftly played. "…Are all gryphons this way?" Harry's head rose sharply. "So you knew…" Harry said guardedly. Malfoy shrugged his sharp, narrow shoulders. "For how long…?" "Long enough." Malfoy, even as untutored as he was in the rules of the game, knew enough to not give away everything all in one go. A little, a tease here, a peek there, keep their interest until you had what you wanted, then throw them away. Harry's hands clenched the blankets. This story obviously ran much deeper than Malfoy had at first supposed. "You must be from very far away, indeed, that you can be one of those. Yet…" Malfoy inclined his head. "Why do you travel about this way? Surely it is easier…?" "No," Harry cut him off sharply. "It is not." Malfoy merely shrugged once more. All at once he was very exhausted; perhaps Harry's company was tiring. Why that would be, he knew not. "I'll be taking my leave of you, then…" It was half a question. The answering nod felt so unusually like a dismissal that it stung Malfoy into anger. "_Master_ Harry." The title was malicious. Both felt it add another stone to the wall between them. _A/N: A terrible place to end it, isn't it? But, I'm at a loss on how to continue this chapter… I figured it would be better to end all of our pain now, rather than dragging it on. I just KNOW some reviews would keep my spirits and inspiration up… I'd love to hear from you all! R&R!_


	8. Chapter Eight: Up

_A/N: Ooo, chapter eight. Aren't I special? Okay, here goes me pimpin' the indie music. Everyone go listen to "Funerals" by the __Arcade__ Fire. That is one really great album, and one really great band. If you don't like them, you suck. (Not really. But your taste in music sure as Hell does.) Anyway. I'd thank my reviewers if I had any… but I don't. Waaah! Oh well, I'm sure I'll live. But everyone be sure to review this chapter!_

Chapter 8: Healing

Harry scowled at Malfoy's retreating back. Such an odd man, warm one minute, cold the next. The sooner Harry regained enough of his strength to resume his hunt, the better. In fact… Harry felt that now was as proper a time as any to begin testing the limits of his body. Disentangling his legs from the blankets proved to be a far more difficult task than he had bargained for, and he found himself having to recuperate from the exertion. He nearly spat in self-loathing and disgust. A young man his age should not be clinging desperately to the bed-post like an invalid oldster. Even if that had been a hefty bit of sorcery that he had attempted, he shouldn't be like this… Harry expelled a breath and pushed away from the safety and support that the bed offered. If he didn't force himself to stand now, what was to stop him from languishing for days, weeks even, in the dubious care of Lord Malfoy? No. The thought of staying here, with that man, made his mouth purse in displeasure.

One step, then another. Harry wandered over in the direction of the window that the Lord Malfoy had been only moments before staring so pensively out of. Perhaps from that window he could ascertain just where he was, and where he needed to go. He placed the heels of his hands on the sill, hoping to lean over the thick pane to see the outlying lands. This proved to be a mistake. With a yelp, Harry drew his hands back from the black stone that composed the walls of the room. The stone was cold enough to have a bite to it, cold in a way that the weather alone could not make it. Rubbing together his hands briskly to ward off the chill that seemed to pervade even to his very bones, Harry could only come to the conclusion that this was one more mystery on the list of many that he had mentally been writing. _A mystery wrapped in an enigma._ He didn't know where the saying had come from, but it certainly seemed to fit his current host.

"I'm going to remain forever the tenant of That Man. What a miserable way to die." Hedwig hooted as if to chastise him for his ridiculous thinking, which made Harry smile. "Oh, don't worry yourself so. I know I'm not really going to die here. It just feels that way now because I'm weak and helpless." His health was really a problem, though. Lately he had been feeling this insistent pressure in the back of his mind telling him that if he did not complete his quest swiftly, he would lose the chance forever. Harry didn't know what he would do with himself if he was forced to abandon this hunt. He would feel like an owl told never to catch mice—useless and starving. With another sigh, Harry gathered up his energies and went to the door. That, mercifully, was made of nothing more than good, strong oak-wood fitted with silver trappings. It was something of a struggle to get even one of the doors open. Finally, after much cursing and berating of inanimate objects he had created an opening just wide enough for him to squeeze his body through.

Once outside the door, Harry was hit first with a feeling of cold, and then disgust. The wide hall was lined with perfectly ordinary stone, but every bit of available wall space was covered with more of the garish green and silver tapestries, all emblazoned with what he assumed was the Malfoy coat of arms, a snake wrapped around a vicious-looking sword that was buried in the breast of a hawk. In fact, the place seemed to give off a distinct air of great dislike for feathered things. The hall branched out in either direction for about fifty feet and then made sharp turns to connect it to the rest of the castle. The room in which he was currently residing was only one of about ten additional rooms on either side of the hall, and further investigation proved these to all be bedrooms, exactly like his in size and style, though considerably dustier. The guest wing, then. Well, that would tell him nothing. He needed to see the rest of the castle—but his little excursion had cost him precious energy, and he dared not get himself lost in what he had the feeling were labyrinthine passages. It would be far better for him to go back to his bed now, rest, and continue his investigation when he awoke.

Hedwig clacked her beak at him in a faintly irritated fashion when he returned—she most likely had resent not being included on his foray. "Don't worry," he told her, climbing into the bed, "I'll take you along next time, I promise. You didn't miss anything, really." Hedwig seemed to consider this, then ruffled her feathers and hooted in what Harry took to be acceptance. He sank against his pillows with a yawn, and within minutes he had drifted into sleep.

"Wake up, boy." In his half-slumbering state, Harry could not match the voice to a speaker, but it set his teeth on edge. "I said, _wake UP!"_ With that last word his blankets were snatched rudely off of him and Harry came to complete wakefulness. Malfoy stood next to him, holding the blanket in one hand and a steaming mug in the other. His expression was one of impatience and irritation, which only served to incite Harry's own annoyance further. "Here," Malfoy said to him, shoving the cup into his hands. "Drink it." Harry obeyed unthinkingly and almost gagged on the bitter liquid. Coughing, he managed to swallow all of the mug's contents, fixing Malfoy with a baleful look afterwards.

"Just what was that?" The drink left a distinctive, harsh aftertaste in his mouth.

"Rockroot tea. It will speed your healing along and help soothe your burnt-out channels," Malfoy replied without actually looking at Harry. The dark-haired boy made a face. A healer's brew; no wonder it tasted so vile.

"Why do you know something like that?" Harry asked suspiciously. Malfoy gave him a singularly condescending glance. When he made no further comment, Harry ground his back teeth in anger. He did not give vent to these feelings, however. Though he had been perfectly horrible about it, Malfoy had just done him a kindness, and he didn't want to spoil whatever mood his host was in that prompted such a measure if he could help it. "Why did you give it to me, then?" He tried his best to keep his tone pleasant, but some of his frustration crept into it anyway. For a moment, Malfoy looked startled, as if he himself had not considered the question. The moment quickly passed and that expression was replaced by the much more familiar one of disdain.

"Because I want you out of my home as quickly as possible, that's why," he said. Harry sensed there was something more to it then that, but he didn't press the issue. "I brought you some food, as well. I don't want you dying of starvation—I would have to make arrangements for a corpse, and I'm not finished with the last one." Was that a thinly veiled threat, or a slip of the tongue? Harry couldn't tell. Malfoy shoved into his hands a bowl of stew, then stood there waiting for him to eat it. "Well, go on then." Harry did as he was told, and though he had had his doubts it was actually rather good. The meat had a strange flavour to it that he could not identify, and all of the vegetables were foreign to him, but it was good. When he had finished the last of it, Malfoy took both mug and bowl and set them on the windowsill. Harry saw, now that he was looking, that there was yet another mug. This one was the same colour and had nearly the same scent as the first.

"Is that more whatever-root tea?" Harry was quite sure that he could not stomach more of that abominable liquid. He would lose all of that delicious stew that he had just finished eating.

"Rockroot, and yes it is." Was it Harry's imagination, or was that trace of laughter in Malfoy's voice? "You're going to drink it, and like it." He pressed the mug into Harry's hands once more, not taking "no" for an answer. Giving in, Harry quickly knocked it back. At least it was cool enough that he didn't scald his tongue the process.

"Why are you doing this…?" He asked again. When Malfoy gave him only silence, Harry wanted to ask again, but he found that he couldn't. There must have been something more in that tea, because he felt his mind grow fuzzy with sleep.

"You'll know everything eventually. For now, rest." Malfoy said this as Harry's heavy lids closed, and in his half-aware state, Harry almost thought he heard softness there.

_A/N: Uhm. That's an odd place to leave the chapter, but… Yes. Anyway. I wanted to post something up. I decided that the story needed more flesh to it, so it's going to take even LONGER to develop—haha! This really just gets more AU by the second, doesn't it? Please R&R! I love yooooou!_


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